


Waiting Game

by unfortunate17



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, liam is menelaus, well sort of, zayn is helen of troy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 16:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2700344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfortunate17/pseuds/unfortunate17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As everybody always said, Zayn was the most beautiful creature in all the land. And Liam's nothing more than his incredibly lucky, kind-of-average husband (or so he thinks). </p><p>In other words, a really inaccurate story that loosely translates into a Ziam-Trojan-War!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting Game

**Author's Note:**

> This is super dumb and kind of doesn't make much sense - read at your own risk. It was for fun though! D:

When Lord Payne finally ascended to the throne, the Kingdom of Wolver had been in a perpetual state of peace for nearly three centuries. Many of the village people whispered that this was a very fortunate thing, because Liam was, for a lack of better words, a bit dense.

This wasn't to say that he wasn't kind, compassionate, and generous - for he was - almost to the point where some folks took advantage of him. Lord Payne Senior shook his head fondly at his only son quite often as he overheard Liam's antics at court (where he remained a constant presence to make sure his kingdom didn't fall apart entirely). 

It isn't that he wasn't intelligent; he  _really_ was. It was just that it was so easy for someone to sway him with tragic tales of misfortune or emotional events. He just wore his heart on his sleeve. 

But most importantly, the citizens of his kingdom  _adored_ their king. Men would volunteer for the overflowing army in order to defend their homeland (if the need ever arose), wives brought Liam homespun robes whenever he would visit the villages (those of which Liam accepted graciously, of course), and children grew up in the flowering wealth of his rule. 

Thus, it was only a matter of time, that as King Liam Payne came of the age of twenty years, he was flooded with marriage proposals far and wide from all eligible sons and daughters. Lords that wanted to connect themselves to the royal name, kingdoms that wanted to share and bask in Liam's wealth and prosperity - or so he had heard.

Liam was never allowed to meet any of these young men or women because ultimately, he would not be the one to choose his life partner. That minor detail would be the responsibility of his father and his mother, both of whom Liam had always trusted would know what was best for him. 

Well, up until the chosen suitor is finally brought to him, that is. 

His name is  _Zayn Malik._ The son of King Yaser and Lady Tricia of Bradfordshire. 

And he is the single most beautiful creature Liam has ever laid his eyes upon. 

_____

"I had a lot of suitors, you know," Zayn says to him the first time they meet properly. It's the night before their wedding and they've both been permitted to  _take a turn about the gardens_ as Lady Karen had so eloquently put it. "You really weren't my top choice, but my parents wanted access to the trading posts on the river. Did you know that your kingdom controls the only one for miles and miles around?"

Liam blinks. It's a struggle to speak to Zayn while looking at him directly, too easy to get caught up in the fluttering eyelashes and sharp cheekbones only made more elegant by the line of scruff that adorned a jaw that could cut glass. It's as if he's carved from the hands of Zeus himself. "Yes," he nods though he's not sure what he's just agreed to. 

Zayn rolls his eyes at him in a way that if Liam had done it, he would've received a threatening slap from his mother. "Not the sharpest arrow in the bow, are you?"

Liam blushes at that, turning away to count his footsteps again. It's a nice distraction from Zayn's face. He frowns, "I'm sorry."

"It is of no consequence," Zayn waves his hands disinterestedly, "The people say you are extraordinarily generous. Will you be  _extraordinarily generous_  with me, King Payne?"

Liam feels his cheeks heat, "Yes, of course." He watches Zayn smirk at him from the corner of his eyes and he's - he's  _so_  beautiful. All golden skin and golden eyes, a mass of shocking raven hair. The blood red robes he's sporting do nothing but enhance his ethereal features.

"Good," Zayn laughs, but there's a teasing touch to his tone, "otherwise I'd be concerned for my wellbeing."

_____

"You are  _gorgeous_ ," Liam tells him, biting down on his bottom lip. Zayn's got three fingers deep inside him, and he spares nothing more than a cool glance up from his task in return. He's crouching in between Liam's thighs, eyebrows furrowed as he works towards consummating their marriage. 

It'd be almost romantic, Liam thinks, if it weren't for the witness party watching from the end of the room in order to confirm that their marriage has indeed been truly fulfilled. 

"Thank you," Zayn mumbles finally, naked silhouette lighting up like a flame against the dying sunlight from one of the large windows. He pulls his fingers out of Liam with an obscenely slick sound. Liam cringes, hoping that the witness party couldn't hear every sound made in the room, but Zayn doesn't seem to have the same care. 

He presses forward and brackets Liam with his lithe body, "Ready?" His arms are resting on either side of Liam's head, caging him in tightly. 

Liam nods, a panicked breath escaping his mouth involuntarily when the head of Zayn's cock breaches his entrance. He's gripping Zayn's back, digging his nails into his perfect skin at the onslaught of pain. "Zayn," he gasps, " _Zayn."_

Zayn freezes immediately, halfway inside of him. He meets Liam's eyes and something flashes in his own - something that looks like understanding and fear. Leaning down until his hot breath tickles Liam's ear, he whispers only for him, "Have you not been bedded by a man before?"

Liam whimpers, shaking his head tightly. He vaguely hears Zayn curse lowly under his breath before he turns to the party at the end of the room. "It's done," Zayn's voice is loud, bolder that it really should've been in the situation, "You may leave now."

Each  _yes, my lord_ only makes Liam cringe harder, burying himself in the sheets under Zayn. It's only after all of them have left that he dares breathe again. 

Likewise, Zayn lets out a long rush of air above him. "Relax, Liam. They're gone now. We are alone."

Liam forces his limbs to obey, and the pain lessens almost immediately. They wait in silence for a few minutes, until Zayn nudges him questioningly. Liam smiles at him softly, reaching up to toy with Zayn's hair - it looks soft, feels even softer, and is thick and inky between his fingers. 

There's something tender in Zayn's eyes, now, as he eases fully inside of him until his hips are flush with Liam's skin. "Good?" he murmurs.

There are fingers tracing the shape of Liam's brows softly, cupping his jaw, a kiss against his forehead. "Yes," Liam sighs, "Much better."

He feels Zayn smile against his skin, "Good."

_____

It's only after, when they're both lying sweaty and stated, the ruined sheets tossed off to the side, that Zayn kisses him properly, brushing his hands delicately along Liam's ribs. 

It takes a while before thought returns to him. Liam's brought himself to pleasure many times before, but he hadn't quite realized  - how intensely intimate it would be with someone else. How much Zayn's presence changed the act completely from one of quick relief to something Liam wanted and craved more of. 

Zayn is stunning,  _gloriously_  so, chiseled from marble for the likes of a God, and although his quick-wit and sharp tongue leave Liam aching sometimes, he is warmhearted. 

Even so, Liam does think the whole thing was a little backwards. He thrums fingers gently along the side of Zayn's neck, waking him out of his light slumber. "That was the first time you kissed me."

Zayn's eyes crack open and he shrugs, the armor Liam's come to know, locked in place once again - one that would hopefully wear away with time. "A kiss is intimate, Liam. Private. It's not something you share with the world."

"Oh," Liam says, "Okay."

Zayn sighs under his breath, all the tension leaving his body. "Come here," he lifts an arm invitingy. Liam takes that as his cue to move forward until they're pressed flush against each other chest to chest, Liam's head tucked into Zayn's neck. "You're as lovely as I imagined" Zayn admits, hushed, "And you were always my choice for a suitor, you know."

Warmth blooms in Liam's chest, but Zayn shushes him before he can speak. 

"Sleep," he mumbles, "We've got time to talk later."

_____

Liam knows that Zayn is irresistibly alluring and, as expected, most of his court and castle staff notice right away. However, it takes exactly four months for the specific tales to come rolling in.

Apparently, Zayn's hand had been so sought after in Bradfordshire that his parents had to take extreme caution, even going as far as to lock Zayn in the castle twenty-four seven, just so he wouldn't get carried away by someone who couldn't take no for an answer. His beauty was known far and wide, with many men and women offering him extravagant gifts of gold and precious stones in hopes of winning Zayn's love. 

It all makes Liam feel a little small because there's nothing about him really that'd even give him a chance - he was nowhere near as beautiful as Zayn (though he doubted anyone was), had not offered any gold or diamonds, he hadn't even had Zayn's statue carved out of crystal like Zayn's last suitor. 

Which is why, he finds it baffling, that Zayn is so happy here. With him. Though, certain members of his court, namely a young man named Paris (whose council Liam trusts wholeheartedly), have callously told him that it would only last until Zayn got bored of him. Paris insists that Liam has to  _please_ Zayn  - with gifts, with love, with  _courtesans._

Liam considers himself a strong person, considers himself a trusting person, he can't imagine Zayn reverting back to the cold front he'd put up back when he was still "testing" Liam. Not his Zayn, who painted out in the gardens when it was nice weather, who gave wise council at court, and who kissed and made love to Liam until they were both entirely out of breath. It was like Liam was  _gone_  over Zayn's  _entire._

But, the constant stream of  _King Payne certainly got lucky, didn't he?_ doesn't disappear, and Liam reasons that trying to keep Zayn happy wasn't the worst path of action he'd choose to take.

_____

"This is for you."

Zayn hums, turning around from where he's seated at a desk in the castle library, leafing through some thick volume that Liam wouldn't touch with the end of his sword if his life depended on it. 

Liam tucks the necklace around Zayn's neck, leaving it resting on his sculpted collarbones, the diamond hanging fetchingly against the platinum chain and the tan of his skin.

Zayn looks a little confused, but he admires the way the large, circle pendent catches the light, winking at the two of them in brilliance. "What's this for then?"

Liam threads his fingers in Zayn's hair, watching as his incredible husband tips his head back into his hands, looking up at Liam standing before him. Liam's heart hammers at the thought of losing him, "I just wanted to give you something. Had it made specially for you."

Zayn looks at him fondly, thumbing at the pendant, "Didn't have to do that, love."

"I wanted to," Liam says softly, swallowing, "It's not like need any more decoration to catch every eye in a room, but take it as a token of affection."

Zayn stands then, freeing himself of Liam's hold, only to wrap himself around Liam entirely, leaning back against the table and hooking his ankles around Liam's calves. " _You_ ," Zayn laughs, "you are so wonderful. I   love you."

Liam smiles into Zayn's hair, weight lifted off of his shoulders temporarily, "I love you, too, Zayn."

_____

The next incident doesn't go as smoothly as the first, but it isn't quite as straightforward either. Adding to it, Liam asks in bed - which, looking back - was probably the worst timing he could have had. 

Zayn's curled around him, hiding his face under Liam's chin in order to block out the early morning sunlight coming through the window. It normally had a curtain pulled over it, Liam notes a little embarrassed, except, the night before, Zayn had twisted Liam until his chest was pressed against the glass, fucking sounds out of him that Liam didn't know he could make. 

"You're awake," Zayn groans, "I can feel you fidgeting. The sun's not up, Li,  _please yeah._ Just - " he trails off, smothering unintelligible words into Liam's skin. 

Liam traces one hand up Zayn's waist, listening to the pleased sound he makes in response, and wonders if Zayn will always be that excited to jump into bed with him. What had Paris said again? Right, that Zayn needed  _variety_ \- that there was no way one man, especially Liam, would be able to satisfy someone as beautiful as him. 

"Zayn," Liam says, ignoring the way Zayn whines in protest, "Have you ever - ever thought about a courtesan?"

Zayn freezes immediately in his arms before he raises his head. The look in his eyes is tightly controlled, and so is his voice, "I'm aware of what they are, yes. Why do you ask?"

"I - " Liam bites his tongue, wishing he'd never have to have this conversation with Zayn of all people "It's custom. Custom for me to at least ask - "

" _Custom_?" Zayn's voice is dangerous, "You think it's  _custom_  that I'm going to just step back and watch someone else fuck you the way-"

" -  _no_  - "

"It's not happening, Liam," Zayn spits, "It's absolutely not - "

"For you," Liam breaks in loudly, "For  _you_. Like, not for me. Never for me." He swallows, soothing a hand down Zayn's back, "I'd never, Zayn,  _never_. But I thought - maybe if you wanted. Wanted someone for yourself then you can - "

Zayn's looking at him with wide, wide eyes. His voice is hoarse when he speaks next, twisting something in Liam's stomach, "That the impression I gave off, then? Think I'd do that to you, Leeyum?"

"I only offered," Liam whispers quietly, guilt lodged in his throat. Of course all he'd succeeded in doing was making Zayn upset.  _Of course._  "because some of the people at court. They say - "

"I know what they say," Zayn mutters, fluttering a kiss on Liam's eyelids, "Didn't know you believed them, though."

Liam grips Zayn's waist tightly, "It's hard not to. I mean, you're - you're  _Zayn Malik."_

Zayn laughs breathily against his cheek, but he's very firm, "I may not have had a choice in marrying you, Liam, but it has been my choice to stay. So respect my choice and let me be with you."

Liam closes his eyes, letting out a long rush of air, "Okay," he says, "Yeah, I can do that."

"Good."

_____

Three months later, Liam opens his bedchamber doors after a long day of council to an empty bed. He's confused because Zayn had gone hunting that morning with the guards, and he'd promised that he'd be waiting for Liam when he got in from court tonight. 

 _Maybe they'd gotten caught up_ , Liam thinks, tucking himself into the chilled bedclothes, Sleeping alone was something he'd almost forgotten,  _Or maybe they'd travelled too far and set up camp to wait out the night so they could navigate safely by sunlight._

Liam reasons that Zayn'll be back. He can spend one night without him, he's sure. However, it still takes him a long time to drift off into a sleep that's fitful and irregular at best. 

He carefully tries not to think of the  _what if Zayn didn't want to stay anymore?_

_____

Two weeks later, his Cup-bearer comes bursting into his bedchambers, yelling loud angry words that Liam can't even muster up the energy to decipher. He hasn't seen Zayn since the hunting trip - the whole crew has simply vanished. But if Zayn wanted to leave, Liam has no doubt that he could've easily charmed any man into doing his bidding.

Cup-bearer Harry doesn't even wait for Liam's response, reaching over to pull the bedclothes away from Liam's face. He's met with two dark green eyes, clouded in fury, the ever-present dimples hidden by a seriously irritated expression.

It's all very blasphemous as well. Liam's sure he can relieve Harry of his duties for this offense. 

"My great lord, Liam," Harry sneers, "Will you, for the love of Zeus almighty, send out a search party for the missing men? It's been two weeks since they've been gone - plenty of time to decide upon a course of action - and all you've done is hole yourself up in your room, avoiding everyone like the plague."

Liam sits up against the headboard, but avoids Harry's eyes in favor of twisting the bedsheets childishly between his fingers, "I would," he says slowly, "But I don't think there's any need."

"No need?" Harry says disbelievingly,"But those men have been missing for  _two weeks._ Do you not care for the welfare of your people? Besides, wasn't your husband a member of the party?"

Liam frowns, swallowing back the ache the words bring him, "Of course I care for their welfare - which is why if they don't wish to be found, I will not seek them out."

Harry blinks at him slowly. It's a little disconcerting to be on the receiving end of his anger, "They were kidnapped. Or worse, slaughtered. And my - my - General _Niallus_ was with them. I'm just concerned. For my friend."

Liam brings his knees to his chest and hooks his arms around his knees, "Very well," he says softly, "I'll send out a search party. For the General that is."

"Thank you," Harry breathes. He's silent for a long, long moment, watching the way Liam's shoulder's probably caved in under the weight of everything he's lost.  Then, "I'm not the wisest man at your court, Liam, but even I know that Zayn would never abandon you."

Liam chokes back a sudden sob that bursts out of his throat. The words were so much more real when said aloud, "As long as he's happy - "

"No," Harry cuts in, firmly. He places a hand on Liam's shoulder, squeezing for comfort. "Look for him and seek an explanation before you draw a conclusion. Trust me, Liam - I'm your cup-bearer for God's sakes.  I've spoken to Zayn plenty at court, that man  _adores_ you." 

"Hopefully," Liam whispers because it's easy for Harry to say such things - he doesn't know of all of Liam's endless inadequacies when compared to Zayn, "But I won't force him to come back if he doesn't want to."

Harry sighs, "Let's go look for him first, Li."

_____

The mystery doesn't take long to solve. Or at least it doesn't for Harry - Liam's still a bit confused, not that he'd admit it out loud. 

The second they find out that Sir Paris had joined the hunting party last minute without Liam's permission, Harry is up in arms, scowling and muttering that he's going to take Paris' head off.

Liam blinks, trying to catch up with Harry as Harry weaves around the palace corridors, looking for their King of Arms, Joseph. "How do we know it's him? Paris has always been loyal."

Harry whirls to face him, "I'm pretty daft, Liam, don't get me wrong, but have you seen the way Paris looks at Zayn _?_  He hasn't been in court since the trip - which he went on without informing you. Coincidences like this don't happen. Not with him, anyway. "

Liam frowns, breathing hard, "Everybody looks at Zayn like that."

"No," Harry shakes his head very patiently, as if he's explaining to a child, "everyone admires Zayn, okay I'll give you that. It's hard to deny his beauty and all, but most of us respect you, and more importantly, we don't go around treating other men and women like they're pieces of meat."

Liam narrows his eyes, "Paris mistreats Zayn?" Blood's thundering under his veins then because if Zayn wanted another, then Liam was going to be damn sure that he treated him with the respect that Zayn deserved.

Harry squirms uncomfortably, "He used to - used to say things to Zayn that really shouldn't have been said in public. Zayn would always flush with embarrassment - "

" - or arousal," Liam whispers, because  _fuck_ Paris is a good-looking man, all dark hair and blue eyes. Definitely above average, and he was polite and wealthy and wise - 

"Liam," Harry snaps him back to attention, "Remember what we talked about? How we were going to find Zayn - and Niall - before we jump to conclusions?"

Liam swallows bitterly, "Okay."

Harry sighs, suddenly pitching forward to hug Liam tightly, "If Zayn hurts you," he whispers furiously, "which I'm sure he won't - but even in the slightest chance he does - nobody will care for his looks after I'm through with him."

Liam's voice breaks and  _Zeus almighty_ he needs to get it together, "Harry  I don't want - "

"Excuse me Liam," Harry pulls back, cutting him off with a clear look. "Anyway, Paris has three properties in the kingdom, and he's obviously hiding away in one of them. The only thing is which one."

They stand in silence for a moment, because they need a location before they informed Liam's King of Arms on Liam's course of action. 

"Moat," Liam says then, suddenly, lighting up, "Only one of his properties has a moat - I'd know because I gifted it to him a few years back. Zayn can't swim. He'll be wherever the moat is. Can Niall swim?"

"Yeah," Harry mutters, but he's looking at Liam like he's a genius, "But Niall's not really the prize that Paris wants, is he? He wants to specifically keep Zayn in and what better way than to surround him by water. Fuck, Liam - that's it. He's in the West Kingdom, in that chateau by the shore."

_____

The entirety of the court and many of the men in their kingdom's army are outraged and take Zayn's kidnapping as a personal offense. Harry claps Liam on the shoulder and tells him that it's a sign of a beloved king while Liam thrums with happiness.

He's nervous about what explanation that Zayn will give him, almost wants to avoid the situation entirely. But, the inclination to make sure that Zayn is safe and whole is too great, and Liam finds himself rapidly assembling troops in case Paris decided to fight. As a high ranking lord, he did have people whose loyalties rested with him over Liam. 

The chateau, luckily, isn't far from Liam's castle at all. Since he'd handed it off as a gift to Paris a few years back, Liam knows both it's exact location and is familiar with its interior. The only real concern is Zayn (and Niall of course, as Harry reminds him vehemently). 

They march at nightfall, as to travel under the cloak of darkness. It's been exactly six weeks since Zayn's left and Liam can't remember the way he smelled anymore. He wonders if this is what it's like to lose someone - the way you slowly forget little details about them until their very face is a fuzzy blotch in your memory. 

The thought terrified him because,  _God_ , Zayn is the love of his  _life_ \- and his husband - and a King of Wolver and Bradfordshire. He's literally Liam's other half.

He orders his army to create a blockade around the chateau, trapping Paris inside. Paris has no ships so the shore provided no escape for him. When he sun rises, Liam orders his horn blowers to announce their arrival, even though he's sure Paris knows he's here.

It's anticlimactic after that, the heat of the day settling in. Liam likes to amuse himself by imagining Paris panicking inside, pulling out his hair as he runs out of options. 

By noon, Harry's tossing rocks over the walls, hoping he'll hit someone, because Liam hasn't given his men the green light to storm the chateau yet.

"What if Zayn gets hurt?" Liam mutter furiously for the last time, "Maybe we should wait to see if there's really a reason for me to embarrass myself any further."

Harry smacks him up the head for that one and runs to Liam's men, "The King has spoken," he announces, completely disregarding Liam's furious yelps, "Take your stations men, we march in ten minutes."

" _Harry."_

Harry shrugs, "I want to see Niall."

_____

The first thing Liam's going to do when he gets back to his castle is fire Harry. Like fire him to the point where no man in the kingdom will hire him again. Publicly ridicule him. Spread a rumor about him having an extra set of nipples.

Harry is a dead man. 

Also, Paris is a dead man. 

When the army had finally stormed inside, it'd turned out that Paris had locked his prisoners in the chateau dungeon before fleeing up into his bedchambers. He's just heard that Zayn's been found, that Harry's taking him back outside while - in Niall's words - Liam enacts his revenge.

Currently though, that's not going too well. Liam's pretty sure there's a large cut running down the edge of his throat all the way down his neck to his collarbone. It's not deep, but there's blood loss, and it'll scar. The thought makes him cringe. As if he needs that. 

Paris is still a good swordsman, faster than Liam, though not stronger. It still does the trick however. Liam's managed to slice him in the stomach twice, before Paris fled up the stairs towards his tower, Liam giving chase. 

"He wants to stay, you know." Paris sneers at Liam when he bursts through the door. He's clutching at his stomach, where LIam's blade had made contact. "Do you know - he makes the most beautiful noises -"

Something like panic ebbs under Liam's skin, pushing out a sob from his throat. "Fuck you," he snarls. 

"You're nothing compared to him," Paris continues, "You're nothing  _to_ him. You don't even make him happy. I could've." He breathes in deeply and Liam lowers his sword. There's no need to fight a dying man, "You know I was going to be king - but then your nobles decided not to back me." 

Liam shakes his head, "I hate you. I hope you're sorry for what you've done."

Paris laughs loudly, it's a bitter sound, one that Liam feels down through his bones.

_____

The funeral is on a rainy, rainy day and Liam does not attend. The examiners have told him repeatedly that the death was not his fault, that the stomach wounds inflicted where nothing compared to the slashed throat. 

Liam still thinks he could've stopped him. 

Harry finds him in his chambers later in the evening. It's been three days since the attack, and Liam can't bear to show his face in public.

"You wanna talk?"

Liam shrugs, twisting cold sheets in his fists. He's curled on his bed, unable to see more than the rain beating against the windows. 

"Liam."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Harry sighs, and takes a seat next to him. There's a moment of hesitation before Harry curls an arm around him. Liam hides his face in his neck, shuddering. "He was going to be made king," Harry says lowly, "Lots of people thought you were too soft to rule - your father included. Paris was just. He was a back up plan, the son your father's most trusted advisor, though never something to take that seriously. But, there was a lot of pressure, especially on his end."

"You didn't see him," Liam breaks in quietly, "He was. Stabbed himself through the throat in front of me okay and I think he was crying."

Harry sighs, "I'm sorry."

Liam swallows heavily and brings a hand up to cup the scar on his own neck. It's sort of fitting, in a way. The scar is terrible though, a line of white, raised flesh slashing through the birthmark that Zayn loved so much, curling up to the back of his left ear.

Liam doesn't recognize himself in the mirror. 

"What do I do?" Liam whispers finally.

"Compensate his family," Harry says, staring straight ahead, "They'll never believe you of course, but if anyone's going to tell the truth, it's going to be you. Apologize."

Liam nods.

"See Zayn."

Liam freezes.

Harry moves away from him, rising to his feet. He seems so tall then, Liam thinks suddenly, huge even in his slim stature, "He's been asking for you. Three days, Liam."

Liam shakes his head, can imagine the way the scar twists his features. "I can't."

Harry sighs, "Nothing happened between them."

"I know that," Liam says suddenly fierce, "It's not that. It's. You wouldn't understand."

There's a long moment of silence. 

"Okay," Harry says at last, "I'll go. Think about it though."

"Yeah. Whatever."

_____

Liam can't make himself go see Zayn, but he should've guessed that Zayn would eventually take matters into his hand. 

Two nights later, Liam's scared out of his skin when Zayn chooses to slip into his - their - bed, curling tightly around Liam with a kiss at his forehead.

"Zayn," Liam's voice gets caught like a vice around his heart.

Zayn makes a muffled sound against his hair. He still smells the same, Liam thinks a little hysterically. "You won't see me," Zayn whispers, "I love you and you won't even see me."

" _Zayn._ "

He's shushed immediately and gathered into Zayn's chest tightly. "I missed you. Everyday I missed you. Harry told me you know, that you didn't want to look for me."

"I  _did - "_

"Shut up," Zayn mutters, but he sounds impossibly fond. Liam's not sure how that's still the case, but it warms his chest regardless. He bends to kiss his throat and Liam's joints seize up in preparation for a comment. But Zayn simply mouths at his birthmark - even though it's split down the center. "You're okay though, yeah, Li?"

Liam feels tears wet the corner of his eyes, "Paris - "

"I know," Zayn says into his skin. He clears his throat, "He locked our group down in the basement and paced around like a madman, talking to himself. He was guilty, Liam. He was a prick, but not a bad man."

"I'm sorry."

Zayn kisses him quietly, despite the fact that he probably tastes like salt and tears. "Not everything's your fault. Some things are, but not everything."

"Okay."

Liam shifts to toss a leg over Zayn's hip and they curl closer together. He takes a deep breath before meeting Zayn's eyes, only to notice that Zayn's already watching him, eyes huge and luminous.

"I love you," Zayn says again quietly, but his voice is fierce, "I love every- well most things about you."

Liam chokes, rolling his eyes. He noses at Zayn's impeccable collarbones. Thinks about what to say:  _me too, I love you too -_

"I believe you."

_____


End file.
